Saturday 28 July 2012

Day 2 at Memorial Sloan Kettering


Sloan Kettering: 
Saying good-bye to my boys on Thursday night was one of the hardest things I have done in a long long time. I knew it would suck. No surprises there. I dramatically cried my eyes out while standing on the corner of York and 67th as their limo headed for JFK. 

We spent the whole day in the pool and ran out of any time they might have had to take me to Admitting or to my room. They had a plane to catch, and honestly, I didn't really want my kids to have to escort me to my hospital room. Yuck. They've been so brave and supportive. At this point, I just feel like protecting them from all this. Hospitals, chemo, seeing lots of sick looking people milling around. They've done their time. It's just me who hasn't. 

When I got to my room, I sat on the bed and continued to cry. I've never done any of this without my family or close friends right next to me. Although I do have a roommate here. Her name is Dina too. And she immediately gave me a hug and did a little visualization with me. She was open and generous emotionally, to a complete stranger. I'll never forget that. 
She has two boys too. Eighteen-year-old twins. And she has leukemia as well. We lit electric shabbos candles together and shared challah and grape juice. I'm definitely in New York. 

My being a wreck has dialled down a bit. FaceTiming with the guys has been really helpful. I just wish there was SmellTime, so I could breathe in their heads, a delicacy I like better than food. 

They've been on major jetlag in London, sleeping till 1:00pm. And watching the Olympics.  Ari likes the swimming competitions. Maybe he's inspired considering he proudly nailed swimming for himself this past week. I love watching the swimmers. They look so free. 

Sloan is a very different hospital from Chicago and London. Being in New York for me is really comfortable. I swear, everything is cultural.  Marty continues to have a very calming effect on me. There's a lot of optimism here and everyone gets my jokes. 

I'm nervous about being here without Andy. He usually acts as my ears and my brain. It's so important for a patient to always have an advocate and Andy is a great one and has always been a cab ride away. When I was nervous about this round of chemo not being strong enough, because I didn't get into the clinical trial, or because I can not do any more Idarubicin with it, Andy's the one who looked at Fludarabine for me and said, "Don't worry, this is strong stuff".  He reminded me that Marty knows what he's doing. Fludarabine is typically used as a prep for bone marrow transplants. I'm pretty optimistic this can wipe out my leukemic cells. It has to. It will. And it has to. This is why...

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